


At Sea

by attaccabottoni



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 15:18:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8253728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attaccabottoni/pseuds/attaccabottoni
Summary: Five times Davos had to find his bearings, and the one time it was not necessary. Set in pre-canon, from the aftermath of the assault on Dragonstone to some years after the end of the Greyjoy Rebellion.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EmynIthilien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmynIthilien/gifts).



> Prompt: _"I’d like to see a focus on how the Stannis/Davos dynamic that we see in canon develops, for Stannis easily could have sent Davos off to Cape Wrath after the Storm’s End siege and never bothered with him again."_ It is certainly a mystery that entails novel-length writing, but I hope these snapshots suffice.

**1.**

The door opening abruptly had Davos looking up from prodding at the bandage wrapped around the meat of his upper arm.

“How were you injured?” Stannis asked without preamble upon striding into the room. The tall maester who was attending to Davos stood and bowed, and Stannis dismissed him with a gesture. He then turned to bore his gaze into Davos, who was tempted to squirm in his seat. All of a sudden, he has to contend with a surge of guilt over being wounded, commonly inspired by Marya or the thought of her. It was odd that this stripling -- who has command of Storm’s End, his newly-built fleet, and now of Dragonstone as well -- also has the ability to elicit that same feeling.

“Misjudged a blow. I have not fought in the open for quite some time, and I am more used to going against knives.”

“I notice that you do not wear mail, nor have a shield.”

“If speed was of the essence for charging this garrison, I did not want the weight slowing me down.”

“Given by what has transpired before we arrived in this wretched island, I doubt it would have made a difference.”

In the strained silence that descended, Davos filled it with apprehension for what Stannis truly came here to say.

“All signs point to Ser Willem Darry having escaped Dragonstone with the remaining Targaryen children. Their whereabouts are currently unknown.”

Instead of giving in to the urge to close his eyes upon that revelation, Davos squared his posture despite the pain on his arm.

“My counsel to sail on the evening tide may have been a poor one.”

“It was my decision,” Stannis said sharply, shifting the grimness on his young face to an imperiousness that gave no quarter. “The winds from the storm just past would have delayed us either way. It was my duty to capture them, and I am answerable to this failure.”

Davos was still scrambling for a reply when Stannis started to exit the room. He paused before the threshold and eyed Davos critically. Davos held his breath.

“I have heard tell that you did good work in the assault, for one who lacks formal training. If the master-at-arms here is not dead or about to be, then he can train you on combat with full armor, once your sword arm has recovered.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Davos said quickly, his mind whirling. Stannis gave him another hard look before closing the door behind him.

Davos slumped in his seat. Despite the less than pleasant situation, he had to scold himself from breaking out into a smile when he caught himself thinking, _So this the kind of lord whom I have pledged myself to._

 

**2.**

The lasting effect of the war was evident in having to clarify allegiances. Not only was it between those who sided with Robert’s Rebellion, as it was coming to be called, and those who sided with House Targaryen, either. The adjustment from having one lord with the Baratheon name to having two lords and a king caused some clerical confusion. Davos did not need to know his letters to recognize the source of irritation from the clerks and maesters with which he has had increasing dealings.

In Storm’s End however, whenever Davos introduced himself, there was no confusion at all which Baratheon brother to whom he was sworn. The horror of starvation during the siege was still fresh in people’s memory, as well as Davos’ part in allaying the hunger that almost lead to their demise.

After speaking with the provisional castellan of Storm’s End installed before Stannis left for Dragonstone, Davos was relieved to know that the embarrassing attention laid upon him during his recovery from losing his fingers had now passed into other things. The glow of pride from the people who survived to serve the new ruling house of Westeros took their minds away from their lingering leanness due to a year of hunger.

The castellan recognized his standard at least, and did not need to read the missive from Stannis to confirm his identity. He agreed to relay the new dispositions to the men who intend to follow Stannis to Dragonstone, while assuring Davos that Stannis’ previous orders in maintaining watch for Targaryen loyalists still stand.

Privately, Davos was grateful for now having a standard, if only for causing the absence of the ridiculous song and dance the soldiers and servants make when he sought to gain entry into any keep. Years of being a smuggler meant unlearning his usual way of going about unnoticed while minding his business, though some habits die hard. He could expect most people of Storm’s End to allow him free rein without having to be stopped and questioned for his presence every now and then. On that part, he was not looking forward to going back to King’s Landing to attend to Stannis, once he took his seat at the small council as Master of Ships.

“Ser Onions!”

A child’s voice hailed him from the entrance of the sept. Davos looked to the side and saw Renly flanked by Maester Cressen and an unfamiliar septa.

The youngest Lord Baratheon had filled the hollows on his cheeks much faster than Stannis, and Davos was glad to see him hale. Yet instead of the boisterous boy Davos remembered, there was an air of gloom that hung over Renly.

“When you see Stannis, will you tell him to come back soon?”

Davos felt his chest tighten at the tremulous note Renly’s voice had taken towards the end of his entreaty.

Before Davos could answer, Cressen laid a hand on Renly’s shoulder. “You know that Stannis is lord of Dragonstone now, and he has yet to have some days to spare for a visit when his duties allow him.”

“But the war is over!” Renly whined. “What is taking him so long to finish before he can return and play with me?”

 _When did I last play with my sons?_ His own question struck him like a physical blow.

“We have talked about this before,” Cressen said patiently. “You will see your brothers again when Robert has set the day of his wedding.”

Renly drew away from Cressen and stamped his foot. “I heard you talking with the new maester from the Citadel!” he cried accusingly. “You weren’t only making plans for going to King’s Landing for the wedding, you told him about what he needs to do here before you and Patchface move to Dragonstone.” Cressen stepped in Renly’s direction, but Renly avoided his reach. “You’re leaving me, too!”

“Please calm yourself,” Cressen requested, his soothing voice belied by the brief tremble in his outstretched hand. “No one is leaving you, Renly. You’re the lord of Storm’s End now, and soon you will have all the company you desire.”

Cressen looked to him for assistance, and yet all Davos could give to Renly was a half-hearted nod. He dared not speak, fearing that the words he would address to this sorrowful child would be the same he had yet to say to his sons.

“And besides,” the septa added, gently gathering Renly in her arms when Renly did not further protest, “you still have so many things to learn, and new friends to make. Time will fly faster, and before you know it, you’ll be big enough to go to King’s Landing whenever you wish.”

Once the septa had urged Renly to mumble, “Safe travels,” at Davos, she ushered the boy back to the keep. Davos heard himself exchange mindless pleasantries with Cressen before he took his leave. His trudging feet felt as heavy as his heart.

He hoped his plans to give his sons more playmates may not turn out to be a bad idea. 

 

**3.**

“Ser Onions!” King Robert exclaimed, at the same time Stannis said, “Ser Davos.”

Davos took the knee and waited for the gesture from the king. He knew not what the brothers were discussing before he came upon them in the corridor, but judging from the laughter in Robert’s voice and the color of Stannis’ face, it had to be something bawdy. When he rose, he handed to Stannis the missive from the harbor master at Weeping Town and briskly reported the death of one of the galley captains at the hands of the pirates from Stepstones. Davos knew he succeeded in diverting Stannis from his umbrage at the king when he had Davos remain in the Red Keep until he sent for him, then swept without another word to the council room.

Upon smelling the sourness in the king’s breath, Davos braced himself before Robert leaned his elbow on Davos’ shoulder.

The king lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Do you have a wife, Ser Onions?”

While Davos replied in affirmative, he had a moment to wonder what could have brought the king to this wine-addled state when it was barely past midday. He dismissed the thought before it got far, because there was no reason needed. He had been in taverns enough to know the difference between green lads drunk on song and story, and those who had waded through the war knee deep in blood that they were frequently thirsty for wine no matter the time of day. Davos averted his gaze from Robert as respectfully as he could, for he did not want to glimpse what horrors lay behind the king’s reddened eyes.

“My brother has known no woman yet. Perhaps if we can see to arranging a way for Stannis to get some practice in while waiting for his wedding, then he’ll have less time for breathing down our necks, hm?”

Standing rock still, Davos revised his opinion on what sort of horrors he did not want to face coming from the king.

“Let Ser Davos be,” Lord Arryn said, giving the king a knowing look as he passed by them on his way to the council room. Davos would have gladly kissed the Hand’s hand. Robert clapped him in the shoulder with a chuckle and took weaving steps in Lord Arryn’s direction.

 

**4.**

Davos first met the man outside the council room, who was about to enter the door Davos had stepped through. His glance caught the direwolf sigil when their paths crossed, but Davos had the urgent dispositions for the royal fleet in mind that there was no more room to ponder anything else.

The next time Davos saw him, he was beside King Robert at the coast of Seagard. By himself, Robert cut an imposing figure in full armor, which was doubled by his towering rage and the grip he has on his war hammer. The wetness of the blood on his weapon was in full view of the men surrounding them. Accompanied by a man holding naked Valyrian steel and standing with icy stillness, the combination had Davos waiting with bated breath along with everyone else who were not the Ironborn. As did the display of the king’s wrath finding satisfaction could quell any feeling of rebellion, how the man loomed in silent judgment was also received with great effect.

Davos did not expect to see him again, believing that Stannis subduing Great Wyk was a sign that victory was at hand. But when they arrived at Pyke at the heels of Balon Greyjoy’s surrender, it was clear that the rest of the forces on the other side of the wall had yet to hear the news.

The continued fighting brought forth the reinforcements from inland, and Davos thought he heard the noise of battle tapering off, when one of the rebels burst forth from the crumbling remains of the wall and with a cry, swung high his axe.

Davos silently thanked Stannis for insisting that Davos would wear a helm, for the blade merely glanced off his head, and it was only his unpreparedness that caused him to lose his footing and stumble.

Belatedly raising his shield, Davos blinked when a greatsword cut down his attacker. He blinked again, and saw Lord Eddard Stark in front of him. His northern features and bearing took on a different light when the man flashed a grin at Davos.

“Keep your shield up.”

Before Davos could take in breath to speak, Lord Eddard turned back inland, dodging the slashing strikes of his opponents before hitting back.

Later, at the sight of Stannis frowning at the remains of the Ironborn fleet, Davos contemplated King Robert’s relationships with the brother he had, and the brother that he chose. When Lord Eddard entered his line of vision, Stannis’ blue eyes darkened as he visibly scowled.

In response, Lord Eddard gave Stannis the exact grin Davos saw earlier, without breaking his stride in the direction of the castle.

Davos stifled a laugh and went to see if he can head off his lord’s souring mood.

His concluding opinion was that comparison between Stannis and Eddard was moot, as his loyalty rested firmly on Stannis.

 

**5.**

If Davos were able to shout a warning, it would not be heard above the roar of the rogue wave that crashed through. He secured himself without having to think about it by hooking his legs around the mast he had been standing beside, and held through the powerful rush of water until he could only hear small splashes. Peering through the sting of salt water in his eyes, he swiftly counted the sputtering crew on the still swaying ship, when it dawned on him who was missing from the deck.

He ran along the railings, heart beating wildly as he searched for a familiar head with black of hair bobbing on the surface surrounding the ship. His smuggler’s instincts screamed against his desire to take to the water. Davos refused to entertain the possibility that they won over the Greyjoy rebellion only to be defeated by the treacherous seas that the Ironborn claim as their home.

He was about to jump overboard when he heard a faint voice coming from below.

Davos could hardly hear Stannis above the din caused by the crew in their mad scramble to haul their lord from where he was clinging to the side of the ship, saved by the rope that he grasped just in time.

The moment Stannis had safely set foot on board, the crew erupted in cheers.

Davos sent a question with his gaze.

His lord’s mouth barely twitched. 

It was up to Davos to fill in that wordless exchange with what he fancied was their mutual feeling.

_Let’s not do that again._

 

**+1**

It started with a short missive from Maester Cressen, for which he needed the combined efforts of Dale, Allard, and Matthos to decipher if it were safe to ask for help in reading. As it turned out to be a mere inquiry on his name day for the sake of records, Davos thought nothing about having the nearest clerk write and send a reply on his behalf.

Shortly after the dawn on his name day, came a drawing of Davos side-by-side the House Seaworth coat of arms, the ink-smudged signature below it marking four-year-old Shireen Baratheon as the artist.

When a series of objects slowly made their way to the keep in Cape Wrath, Davos became hard-pressed to keep them from the curious hands of his four younger sons, especially Steffon, who had just started to crawl.

The handful of fishing hooks from Cressen was stowed in the pack Davos carried with him in his travels.

He could see the soft leather gauntlets and woolen cloak sent by Renly being put to good use soon.

He gave the pair of wine goblets to Marya for safekeeping, as they had a look of would-be heirlooms. As for the cask of Dornish wine that came with it, she decided to have a portion of it spiced, and then they toasted to King Robert’s health. Davos made sure they were watered down well before his children drank any.

Towards the end of his name day, his family finished a hearty meal that would have been a great feast by Flea Bottom standards. 

Davos had already marked the occasion as the most joyous it had ever been, when his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a box. In which lay a set of sturdy hunting knives, and Davos needed no note to ascertain whose choice it was for a gift. He has been serving the man for ten years, and yet Stannis continued to surprise Davos in turns.

The next day, he resolved to bring his older sons with him to the woods, and teach them how to hunt.

* * *


End file.
